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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 
'VSf6'79 



©1^ dcj^ujiiijlli !f 0. 



Shelf".. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Cy"' 



..0 



PEDANTIC VERSICLES 



i/ 

ISAAC FLAGG 



3.-®iC 




BOSTON 

PUBLISHED BY GINN, HEATH, & CO. 
1 88.^. 



7S ini 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year i88j, by 

ISAAC FLAGG, 
In tlie Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Waslungiou. 



J. S. Gushing & Co., Printers, Boston. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Versicles 3 

Paraphrases 23 

Hylethen . , 49 

Songs of Eros 59 

Symposium Metricum ........ 77 



VERSICLES 



Ha ! — ^/lerc V a double meaning in that. 

Shakespeare. 




TO A REVOLVING BOOKCASE. 



TIJ^RIEND of mc bookworm, more than double- 
faced, — 

Thereby above duplicity, — whose four 

Broadsides sahite me, offering each a score 
(Handy at this perusing elbow placed, 
To serve, by turns, its indolence or haste) 

Of tomes replete with my peculiar lore : 

Not thy ingenuousness concerns me more, — 
Beholding thus the phases of my taste 

Successively revealed — grammar awhile, 
Then sentiment (alas ! not less profound), 

And so forth ; — no regards of mood or style 
Outweigh a problem I would fain propound 

To men of cipher, — how much, by the mile. 
Thou savest me a year, in going round ! 



Versicles. 



TO AN OIL-STOVE. 

Now Heaven assist me to amass 

Thy attributes beneath one name, 

Imp of the evil eyes in glass, 

Gleaming with doubly wicked flame 

Thou, though of base metallic birth, 
And fed with watery fuel, won 

From the cold breast of mother earth. 
Dost warm me like some little sun. 

Such thy vile origin, no doubt 

To be blown up I well avoid, 

As I proceed to blow thee out, 
Tinny petroleasteroid ! 



Vcrsiclcs. 7 

TO A STAINED-GLASS WINDOW. 

Soft-blinking transom, from a crude outdoors 
Letting a dim, if not religious, ray 
In on the cultured drone — yet who, that sees 
Through thy desigUj much-pitted board, could 

doubt 
Its holiness ? Ah no ! there is a whole 
Gospel of sweetness, mazy polychrome, 
In those weird conic sections, jigsaw-limned, 
And secondary colors (all of prime 
Importance to aesthetic nerves), ranged not 
With stale, Philistine symmetry of pattern, 
To pall on the cloyed sense. What meant the 

churl 
Who glazed thee and confined thee in the socket. 
When, in thin tones, with grin heretical, 
He asked me if I 'd have it upside-down, 
Or downside-up .-* Blind scoffer, he shall have 
His labor for his panes — a putty man, 
To chaffer lewdly with a child of light ! 



8 Versifies. 

ULYSSES' WINE. 

{Abroad.) 

Cyclops, here 's wine ; prithee wash down the 
sickening 

Meal of man's flesh behind that ruthless jaw. 
See what' a drink I boast; an find'st it quickening, 

Grant I sail home, and not descend thy maw. 

Man, that is wine ! — scarce from Cyclopean 
presses 

Flowed the rich nectar each immortal sips, — 
Warm as far Phoebus' ray the glebe caresses, — 

Sweet as a kiss from Cytherea's lips ! 

Fill here again : marry, I bear no malice 

Toward the fair pourer ; tell thy wretched 
name. — 
Now, by my eye, great Bacchus tipped that 
chalice ! — 
Zounds ! and my namesakes touched it with 
their flame ! 



Vcrsiclcs. 9 

Noman ? More, more ! — Last, but not least, I 

guzzle 
No-man ! — Heigh ho, my head ! Pluck off this 

wreath ! 
Weighs I'k' old bristly Etna ; w' 're 'av'n' a 

tussle ; 
• H-he 's on t'-top, 'nd I 'm-m-m-underneath. 



^ O .ri 






lO Versiclcs. 

CALYPSO'S WHINE. 

{Strophe.^ 

Strange mortal, whom Poseidon 
Of troubles turned high tide on, 
Because Kyklops, one fine dawn, 
Woke up and found his eye gone : 
Why can't you stay witji me more? 
Not, moping by the seashore, 
Tears for Penelope pour ? 
You 're certainly a new man, 
To set an earthly woman 
Above a super-human ! 
You stick to one as few can. 
I don't know what I had done. 
If fate had made me that one. 
And, if before 't was sad fun. 
This almost makes me mad run. 
It tears my very tissues, 
To cut from hopes of bliss loose. 
And let you go on this cruise ! 
O, what a tyrant is Zeus — 
How might I, might I bis choose ! 
O, terrible odd issues, 

Odysseus ! 



Vers if Its. 



(^Aniist raphe.) 

Goddess, — if it beseem us 
To speak of that extreme muss 
We had with Polyphemus, 
I 'd rather hear the knave yell, 
From now till half his cave fell, 
Than in this living grave dwell. 
Dubbed of the sea the navel. 
If any country, save Hell 
(You know I had to brave Hell), 
Will let a man behave well, 
I think I 'd better go there, 
And not be hid in nowhere 
By sweethearts, never so fair. 
And now, unless a low snare 
Is laid by Zeus, I do swear 
(You needn't bite your lip so), 
I shan't propel that ship slow ! 
Slip, slap — my heart and ribs go, 
Tears on excursion-trips flow. 
In spite of memet ipso, 
To get apo-calypse, O 

Kalypso ! 



II 



1 2 Vcrsicles. 

CIRCE'S SWINE. 

{Porcellian Chorus.) 

Circe, Circe, Circe ! 
Thirst we, thirst we ! 
First me ! First me ! First me ! 
Circe feed me, Circe heed me ; 
Circe, white Circe, 
Circe seated there. 
Folded hands, flowing hair : 
Of that wand behind thee 
Is no want to bind me ; 
Who could, who could fly 
From the sty in Circe's eye ? 

Not I ! Not I ! 
Harming charmer, sorceress ; 
"Charming harmer, not the less : 
Who wins of Circe's wine, 
Is won of Circe's wine ! 
Wins a curse he, what the worse he ? 
What the worse, worse we, 
Versi, versi, vej'sif 

Mercy, mercy ! 
Circe, Circe, Circe ! 



Versiclcs. 13 

ULYSSES' WINE. 

{^At home.) 

High-flickering fagots streaked the walls 
Of lost Ulysses' shadowy halls. 

Late sprawling at his regal board, 
Revelled the suitors' noisy horde. 

They gorged his cuts of beeves and swine, 
They crunched his bread, they gulped his wine. 

Liodes, deemed of bad the best ; 
Antinous, Polybus, and the rest. 

The aged bard who praised his house 
They made rehearse to their carouse. 

His costly fare they spilled and spurned ; 
No morsel to the gods they burned. 

They tossed his cups with scoff and leer. 
They pulled his maids who brought the cheer. 

They threw their thoughts where lay his bride, 
And vowed right soon to clasp her side. 



14 Versiclcs. 

With belch and shout, in ribald jest, 
Oft thus the one the other addressed : 

' Mine host, boys, seems inclined to stay ; 
Let 's hope him back by judgment-day!' 

' Ay, that 's when madam means to stop, 
And let this weaving-business drop ! ' 

' O, curse her! — she's a pretty thing, 
To keep us waiting for a string ! ' 

'That web, ha ha! for grandpa's shroud: 
Big enough soon to cover a crowd ! ' 

' Let her hang off ; we 're like to thrive, 
At this rate, till our turn arrive ! ' 

' Enough said, and here 's to three in one : 
The drowned father, grandfather, and the son ! ' 

' All in one boat, and that upset : 

We '11 have the lad with his governor yet!' 

' Tune up that turtle-shell, old boy ; 
Give us the taking-doivn of Troy !' 



Vers ides. 15 

' How now, my filly ? — not quite so cross ! 
Don't prance away from the wooden horse ! ' 

' What 's that, daddy Catgut, to spice a spree ? 
Give us a Hymen Hymenee ! ' 

' Pe/etis and TJiet!' ' TJieseus and Ary ! 

' Give us tJie widozv ivJio never ivonld marry ! ' 

'That 's what 's the matter! — come down here 
Pen!' 

'And show yourself to the gentlemen!' 

' All down the centre ! ' ' Every couple go in ! ' 

' Gee out ! ' ' Who said so ? ' ' Mind your taps ! ' 

' Who threw that mug ? ' ' No, that 's too thin ! ' 

' Get off ! ' ' Not much ! ' 'We '11 see '— ' Per-haps ! ' 

' Give us the Centaurs and the Laps ! ' 

' Take off his shoes ! ' ' You can't spell able ! ' 

' Is this a window ? ' 'Is this the floor ? ' 

' Give us the Calydo7iian boar ! ' 

' Who 's he ? ' ' What made her ? ' ' Hold up that 
table ! ' 



1 6 Vers teles. 

'Just so!' 'All night!' 'Bring me one more!' 

' He 's coming ! ' ' How many ? ' ' Who keeps 
this stable ? ' 

' Don't shoot ! ' ' Can't swim ! ' 

' What 's got me, boys ? ' 

' Who doused — that glim ? ' 

' Where 's all that — noise ? ' 




Veisicles. \ y 

CABALLATION. 

Exclaimed a fractious steed one day i 
You say, Be hitched, but I say — Nay ! 

Hold out that corn, if you see fit ; 
But mind now, I don't take — a bit ! 

Touching those things we might term gallers, 
Old man, I can receive no — callers. 

In fact, you 'd best give over reaching 
That buggy, lest I stave a — breach in. 

And cast, of straps if I find traces. 
Your lines in quite unpleasant places ! 

Old horse, quoth man, this may be so ; 
But you '11 be hitched, for ivJicel or whoa ! 

And first, — while home the whaling went, — 
Will you take that as punnish meant ? 



? Vcrsicles. 

EPILOGUE. 

Reader, who standeth under jokes, — 

To waste no word on tipsy folks, 

Who feel their conscious knees dissolving 

Before a bookcase stops revolving ; — 

But ye who steered erect and slow 

'Twixt versicles and vertigo. 

That is (and no schoolmaster's squib this). 

Steady 'twixt Scylla and Charybdis : — 

Ye boys and girls who know what fun comes 

From Greek and Latin and conundrums : 

Who counts me, for professors' wages, 

The precious puns in these few pages ? 

No escapade escape your eyes, 

Italic set or otherwise. 

And proper forfeiture be paid 

For sally found where none was made. 

Hand in a full classification 

(Missing no hit at derivation) : 



Vei'sicles. 19 

How many sing-, how many double, 

How many trip-, how many trouble ; 

The hard, the soft, the gay, the sad ones, 

And — now be careful, girls! — the bad ones. 

Be careful too (beware the dog !) 

And glean out well the epilogue. 

That lad or lass shall be my pride, who 

Knows better what I do than I do. 




20 Versicles. 



EPIGRAMS. 



Dear boys, precociously inclined 

To teach your tutors their remissness : 

That student busies best his mind, 

Who studies most to mind his business. 



Which tougher builds the student bone, 
Platonic Greek, or mathematics i* — 

Antics of quantities unknown, 

Or quandaries of knowing Attics .'' 



Strive on indifferent, charming girl, to seem ! 
That moves me not in different wise to dream : 
Though your indifference were in me amiss, 
Here 's room for hope — in difference such as 
this. 



Versicles. 2 1 

What dolts as partners of their lives 
Fine women take ! has oft been said : 

These might rejoin, What frights of wives 
Wise men are satisfied to wed ! 



Not rhyme, but reason genius shows ! — 
Brays many a bungler, in his season ; 

Then prints — what was not meant for prose, 
But leaves the world to guess the reason. 



Who slights that tongue yclept the mother, 
Shall win no favors from another. 




PARAPHRASES 



YleXoTTouvaaicrTl \aXev/ii6<i, 




THE FESTIVAL OF ADONIS. 



[See the fifteenth idyll of Theocritus.') 



persons represented. 

Mrs. Gorgo. Mrs. Praxinoa 

EuTYCHlS, her maiii. 



EUNOA, 



First Spectator. Phrygia, -• 

Second Spectator. Zopyrion, her son. 

An Old Woman. 



Scene I. — Mrs. Praxinoa' s House at Alexandria. 
GoRGd (A) Etiiioa, the maid, rolio opens the door). 

Is Praxinoa in .' 

Pr.\XINOA (^appearing behind and answering in person). 

Well, she is — if that 's all ! 
So, at last, madam Gorgo, you concluded to call ! 
See a chair for her, Eunoa, — with a cushion on 't 
too. 



26 Paraphrases. 

GORGO. 

O, don't put yourself out ! 

Praxinoa. 

There, be seated, now do ! 

GoRGO {sinking exhatisted on ike chair). 

My sakes, I 'm most dead ! Why, Praxinoa, there. 
It 's a wonder I 've reached you alive, I declare ! 
Such a crowd in those streets, such a myriad of 

folks ! 
Soldiers marching and riding, top-boots and red 

cloaks ! 

And the journey here, perfectly endless ! Dear me, 

Why did n't you live further off, Mrs. P. ? 

Praxinoa. 
I tell you, it 's just what that lunatic meant ! 

We must n't be neighbors — of course not — so he 

went 
To the eends of creation, and hired this hole ! 
Just to spite me ! I know him — draf his stingy 

old soul ! 

GoRGO. 

Doiit speak of your consort, my dear, in that style ! 
And your own little boy in the room all the while. 



Paraphrases. 27 

Only see how he stares, at such words from his 

ma ! 
No, no, Zopery darling, she don't mean your pa. 

Praxinoa. 
The brat does understand, as I live ! 

GORGO. 

Nice papa ! 
Praxinoa. 

This con-sort, as you call it, a few days ago 

(When we say t'other day, that means ahvays, you 

know) 
Went to buy lily-white, for my personal use, 
And came back here with whitewash, the great, 

silly goose ! 

GORGO. 

Mine 's precisely the same, death on dollars and 

cents ! 
Sure to make extra work, at whatever expense : 
Bought the scrapings of somebody's ragbag for 

yarn 

Only yesterday — seven shillings, and not worth 
one darn ! — 



28 Paraphrases. 

But come now, Praxinoa, put on your best things 

And get ready ; I want you to go to the king's 

And see the Adonis. They have it this year 

In Ptolemy's own palace ; indeed, as I hear, 

Our good queen is preparing a perfect gem of a 

show ! 

Praxinoa. 

O, everything 's grand in grand houses, I know ! 

GORGO. 

Yes, but then, you '11 have something to tell of, if 

you go, — 
What you saw there — to them that did n't see it : 

come, come, 
It 's time, and more too ! 

Praxinoa. 

Lord, if I was like some ! 
No work, and six holidays out o' the seven ! 
Pick my sewin' up, Eunoa. Merciful heaven ! 
Stick it right in my way again, lazybones, do ! 
Cats can snooze, but they can't hold a candle to 
you ! 



Paraphrases. 29 

Stir your stumps! Water first here — warn't it 
water I said ? 

And she had to bring soap ! Well — there, yes, 
pour ahead — 

Not quite so much neither, slobberhead, if you 
pFease ! 

Who asked you, young puppy, to douse my che- 
mise ? 

There now, stop ; I 'm as clean as kind Heaven 
thought best. 

Fly round there : fetch the key of the big camphor 
chest. — 

GORGO. 

Why Praxy, that dress ! You look heavenly in it ! 
Let me know what it cost, this identical minute ! 

Praxinoa. 
Don't mention it, now really I daresn't confess 
(Howsumever I do set the world by the dress), 
For, Gorgo, it just cost a ri-dic-ulous price ! 

GORGO. 

Well / would n't care neither, it does set so nice ! 



30 Paraphrases. 

Praxinoa. 

Well, I reckon you 're pretty near right about that! 

Come, Euny, my shawl — and take and tie on my 
hat. 

Jaunty, so ! — No siree, Bub, you ain't goin' too ! 

Hoss bites ! Hobbledy-gobbledy, teeth like tomb- 
stones ! Boo-hoo, 

Bawl as much as you please, but it never will do 

To have cripples ! — take him, Phrygia (we can't 
wait any more), 

Get his playthings ; call the dog in ; and bolt the 
street-door. 




Paraphrases. 3 1 

Scene II. — TJie Street and the Palace-entrance. 

PR.4XINOA. 

My stars, what a crowd ! Bless me, this is a sticker ! 
Shall we ever sail through it ? Thick as ants, if 

not thicker ! 
Well there 's one thing : thank our Ptolemy, since 

his good father died, 
And became a bright angel, we can step outside 
Of our houses without goin' into conniptions 
At the very idee o' them bloody Egyptians ! 
For first-class garrottin', in real handsome style. 
Give me chaps as have trotted the bogs of the 

Nile ! — 
Sw-ee-test Gorgy ! what is to become of us ? See 
Them cav'lry, right on to us ! Don't run over me, 
My good sojer-boy ! Jiminy, how that red one did 

rare 
On his hind hoofs ! Did you ever ? He 's fierce 

as a bear ! 
(You bold hussy, Eun, don't you know how to 

run ?) 



32 Paraphrases. 

Now he '11 kill that man on him, just as sure as a 

gun ! 
That child did do a blessed good thing, when he 

staid 
Safe to home ! 

GORGO. 

There, Praxinoa, don't be afraid : 
We 're behind 'em at last, and they 're on their 
own ground. 

Praxinoa. 
Well, I feel that my forces are comin' around : 
If there 's anything can cause my whole corpus to 

quake, 
It 's a boss, and that cold, clammy critter, a snake ! 
Come along, there 's an ocean of folks in our wake ! 

GoRGO (Jo an old ivonian i7ioving in the opposite direction'). 

From the palace, eh, aunty } 

Old Woman. 

Yes, chillun, I be ! 

GORGO. 

Is it easy to get in .' 



Paraplirases. 33 

Old Woman. 
Try it, sissy, and see ! 
Troy was catched and walked into by never-say- 

dyin' : 
Lor, my handsome young gal, there ain't nothin' 
like tryin' ! — 

GORGO. 

Dear me, what a perfect old oracle she was : 
Had to treat us, free gratis, to classical saws ! 

Praxinoa. 
These old women, I vum, it beats all, what they 

do know : 
Why, they 're posted on Jupiter's doin's with Juno ! 

GORGO. 

P-r-axy, look at those doors ! Here 's the biggest 

crowd yet ! 

We are in for it now, I 'm a thinking ! 

Praxinoa. 

You bet ! 

Gorgo, give us your hand ; grip now ! Eunoa, you 

Take Eutychy's, don't drop it, you 're undone if 

you do ! 



34 Paraphrases. 

Now let 's go in ; all together ! Stick to us like 
a flea, 

Euny ; grit your teeth good ! Here we go ! — 

me-r-cy me ! 
There 's my summer silk, Gorgo, gone up ! What 

vexation, 
Rent like that ! For God's sake, 

(^to First Spectator, close behind her') 

as you hope for salvation. 
Mister, see to my shawl ! 

First Spectator. 

Ma'am, in my situation 
Less is seen than is felt ; still I '11 see — as I am! 

Praxinoa. 
Well, my soul — and my body — this is a sweet 

jam! 
I 've been took in tight places afore, but I vow 
If I knowed just what pigs were at pushin' till now! 

First Spectator {assisting to extricate the two ladies') . 

Cheer up, my good woman, we are all high and 
dry. 



Paraphrases. 35 

Praxinoa. 
And may you, good sir, find yourself noc dry, but 

high ! 
For a year and six months, for escortin' us by. — 
Gorgo, that 's what I call a young man of some 

breedin'. — 
Aiiit they givin' our Eun there a healthy old 

squeezin' ! 
Bust through there, poor sinner — now ! — good on 

your head ! 
All aboard, every woman 's inside ! — as he said. 
When he locked up, and raised his hymeneal shout, 
With him on the inside and her on the out. 




36 Pm'aphrases. 

Scene III. — The Interior of the Palace. 

GORGO. 

My goodness, quick, Praxiny, do come this way ! 
Take a look at these tapestry pictures, I say, 
Before anything ! I never, what sweet pretty 

things ! 
You '11 declare they set fairies a weaving for kings. 

Praxinoa. 

Saints alive ! where on airth now, I just zvoiild like 
to know, 

Did they scare up the artists that drawed for this 
show .'' 

Now just look at them figgers ! — ain't they power- 
ful correct .-* 

How is that, eh, for nateral, chromatic effect .'' 

They're actooally livin', they ain't wove — not in 
the least ! 

There, I always said man was a nice, clever beast ! — 

And if there ain't he himself, Wenus's handsome 
young lover, 



ParapJirases. 37; 

On a silver-legged sofy, with dark purple cover ! 
La suz ! ain't his visage just a spectacle to gaze on ? 
Why, them whiskers, they 'd inflame the tempera- 
ment of an Amazon ! 
/ don't blame her for feelin' lonesome, without her 

Adonis, 
When he 's trav'lled back to Hell behind Pluto's 

black ponies ! 

Second Spectator {iit a little distance, in the crowd'). 
Travel back there yourselves, you infernal old 

cronies ! 
Stop your quacking ! — They '11 have the house 

down, with the twang 

Of their broad Doric brogue, and their outlandish 

slang ! 

Praxinoa. 

I\Iy, my! who 's the feller? — 

{spying him) sonuy, whcrc did j/oii grow? 
It 's a lot oi yoiii' biz, v/hether we quack or crow ! 
Just command your own lackies ! Ain't you nabbed 
the wrong g-oose, 



38 Pai'apJirases. 

When you order round ladies from great Syracuse ? 
And I '11 tell you somethin' else, if your noddle 's 

in doubt : 
Warn't it Corinth, where our forefathers used to 

hang out ? 
That was Bellerophon's place, him as once druv 

Pegasus ! 
Slancrf we sling the strai^-ht ling-o o' the Pelo- 



ponnasus 



Can't a Dorian lady, without bein' sot on. 

Wag her own mother's tongue ? He ain't born 

yet, nor thought on — 
Lord bless us! — that 's a goin' to set up for our 

boss ! 
Well I guess not! Come, I wouldn't — look at 

here now, old boss — 
Be a countin' o' my chickens — that is, if I was 

you — 
Till the dear little critters begin to peck through ! 

GORGO. 

Hush, Praxy, be quiet ! They've lifted the curtain : 



Paraphrases. 39 

We 're to have a sweet song from that lady, for 

certain, 
About poor, dear Adonis. It 's the same prima 

donna 
That had the bouquets fairly showered upon her 
Last year. How I wish I 'd a brought one to 

chuck her ! 
Sh-h ! — don't you perceive she 's preparing to 

pucker ? 







/to ParaphTtises. 

POLYPHEMUS TO GALATEA. 

{See the eleventh idyll of Theocritus.) 

For love no medicine exists, according to my 

notion, 
Friend Nicias, — be it in the shape of plaster, pill, 

or potion, — 
Except the Muses ! That 's a drug with no wry 

face behind it, 
And brings immediate relief : the trouble is — to 

find it! 
I 'm stating patent facts, methinks, to one in your 

position, 
A poet favored of the Nine, as well as a physician. 
No other remedy, at least, — to take a case be- 
tween us — 
Would help my rustic countryman, the youthful 

Polyphemus, 
In the old time, when he was dead in love with 

Galatea, 



P» raph rases. 4 1 

Who used to swim Sicilian seas — and Cyclops 

used to see her ! 
He sent no roses, apples, locks of hair to prove 

his passion, 
But made a business of the thing, in downright 

crazy fashion. 
His flocks would turn untended home to fold from 

flowery pasture, 
While at the wet and weedy shore, from morn till 

night, their master — 
One more of Venus' victims {yoii know how she 

likes to use 'em), — 
Would pine away, and sing away — the Nereid of 

his bosom. 
He found the physic, I repeat, and, perched above 

the ocean 
On a high rock, did thus outpour the flood of his 

emotion. 

"O Galatea, glorious girl, don't put your feller off! 
(Cream-cheese, my gracious ! ain't more white ; no 
lamb ain't half so soft !) 



42 Pai'aphrcbses. 

Don't be a skittish calf, don't be a grape with 

puckery sap ! 
Comin' that game o' comin' out just when I take 

a nap, 
And when I wake — there, cuss my luck ! — dive 

in again kerslap ! 
You run like any sheep as spies a gray wolf 

glarin' at her : 
But as for me, my girl, look here, I '11 tell you 

what 's the matter ! 
I know the day when I got smashed : that 's when 

you went for posies, 
And my old mother went along — and me, to steer 

your noses. 
I had the first squint at you then, and since I first 

knocked under. 
There ain't no peace for Polypheme — but you 

don't care, by thunder ! 
I guess I see what for you run : yes, yes ! I 

should n't wonder 
If this 'ere one long shaggy eyebrow made you 

kind o' skeery. 



Paraphrases. 43 

Spannin' my mug from ear to ear ; and this one 

ogler, deary ! 
And then the nose sets on the Hp a trifle flat, to 

pass : — 
But what 's that, when a feller drives a thousand 

sheep to grass, 
And milks no end o' goats and ewes, and drinks 

the strippin's straight. 
With cheeses, the whole blessed year, piled round 

him by the crate ! 
As to performin' on the flute — if music 's to your 

likin' — 
There ain't a Cyclops' mother's son can tune her 

up as I can : 
Tootlin' at every hour o' the night, in every sort o' 

weather, 
All about you, my pretty pippin-sweet, and me 

together ! 
And ain't I a raisin' eleven little fawns I catched 

up where my place is. 
To 'muse you when I ain't to home? — they 've all 
got spotted faces — 



44 Paraphrases. 

Four bnily baby-bruins too ! Come up and see 'em 

play, sis ! 
Come up, and scrape a nice soft nest right on my 

cabin-floor. 
And let old brindled Ocean bust his gullet at the 

shore ! 
What kind of a stall is that o' hisn, to 'commodate 

a lady ? 
Come up to mine, and cultivate a taste for some- 
thin' shady ! 
There 's laurels there, and cypresses as lith and 

slick as you be ! 
And creepin' ivy, and vines (them grapes shine 

up to any ruby !) 
And zvatcr? — when your whistle wants a wettin' 

in the future. 
Old bristly Etna's snowy knob slings down the 

stuff to suit you ! — 
That 's all very fine, I hear you say — if / warn't 

quite so hairy ! 
Lord bless you ! don't I mean to take a singein' 

when I marry ? 



Paraphrases . 45 

The wood 's all cut and dried, and where 's the 

girl to touch her off quick ? 
I 'd let you burn my liver out, or this one precious 

optic ! 
Where 'd I be then? — O, hang it all, why warn't 

I born a whale ? 
With two old paddle-wheels o' fins and seven-hoss- 

power tail ? 
I 'd make one scoot down there, and kiss that hand 

o' yourn — that is, 
If you won't let me on your mouth, — and fetch 

white crocuses. 
Or else a poppy-blow with soft red petals to her 

phiz. 
One on 'em blossoms when it 's cold, t'other in 

the tepid season. 
So I could n't bring 'em both to once, you see, — 

it don't stand to reason. 
I '11 learn to swim, you bet I will ! my duck, — in 

darn short order. 
When the next ship sails by as has a swim-profes- 
sor aboard her. 



46 ParapJirases. 

Perhaps then I 'd find out what 't is you find so 

mighty nice 
In that brine-tub ! Now, Gaily, take a piece o' 

good advice : 
Come out ! and when you 've come, forget — like 

me, a sittin' now 
On this 'ere rock — to go back home : there ain't 

no tellin' how 
I wish you wanted to live with me, and feed and 

milk my critters ; 
And help me change my milk to cheese, a droppin' 

in the bitters ! 
That 's just what we 'd be a doin' to-day, if 't warn't 

for that old sinner, 
My mother! — seen me all this time a growin' 

thinner and thinner. 
And ain't said one good word yet for me to you ! 

O, bosh, I know her ! 
I '11 punch her head, I '11 pound her toes, I swear 

I '11 go clean through her ! 
If she don't know what 't is to feel this way, by 

dam I '11 show her ! — 



Paraphrases. 47 

Ah, Cyclops, Cyclops ! ain't you nigh the point 

o' sloppin' over ? 
If you was to home a joilin' cheese, or rakin' up 

the clover 
To give them lambs, perhaps you 'd be behavin' 

as you 'd ought to : 
One nanny-goat in hand is worth two dozen in 

the water ! 
Just give those damsels on dry land a chance ; 

it 's my idea 
You '11 find yourself another girl as neat as 

Galatea. 
They all giggle* if one says ' Kiss me, Clops,' and 

I say 'Wait and we '11 a — ' 
Hi hi! it 's clear, on terra firm I 'm just a roarin' 

peeler ! " 

Thus Cyclops cossetted his love Pierian style ; 
and these 

Effusions worked the cure which can't be pur- 
chased of M. D 's. • 



HYLETHEN 



2(itf ben SBcvgcn ift 5-rcil)cit! Scr .<oaud) brv ©viifte 

totcigt uid)t I)inauf in bic vcineu i'iiftc ; 

2)ic iJBclt ift noUfommcii iibcrntl, 

SCo bcv ilicujd) iiidjt Ijiniommt mit jdncv Oual. 

Schiller. 




HYLETHEN. 

"^T /"HERE the torrent swiftest flows, 

Where dark rocks the stream oppose, 
Where the white foam sails away, 
There we hold the trout at play. 

Where above the crystal tide 
Frowns the rugged mountain-side, 
Echoing hoarsely to the call 
Of each impetuous waterfall, 
That leaps from terrace mossy-brown, 
To pebbly basin plunging down. 



5 2 HylctJieii. 

Where the green and dizzy wave, 
Reeling through a granite cave, 
Laps the stony barriers round 
With a faintly gurgling sound, 
Till it gathers strength, and shoots 
Out again beneath the roots 
Of a sturdy hemlock-stem. 
Giant warder of the glen. 
With head bathed in the morning beam. 
And dewy foothold by the stream. 

Where through many a cloven ledge, 
That yawns apart with piny edge. 
Faster pours the torrent yet, 
Or where its scattered waters wet 
Broad rocky tables of the hill, 
Spread to the sun uprising still. 
Or where it breaks in twain, and glides 



Hy let hen. 53 

Down a steep islet's fretted sides, 

Hardly-severed streamlet-pair — 

Swift to rush together, where 

On some gaunt and hoary birch 

The staid kingfisher, from his perch, 

Watches with a sidelong look 
' The bubbling mazes of the brook. 

Before it softly falls to rest. 

Wooed to stillness on the breast 

Of a forest-sheltered pool, 

Whose darkened grotto, by the cool 

Leafy border shut to view, 

Lets but one ardent sunbeam through — 

One amber shaft from brink to brink 

Where the purling eddies sink, 

And a rainbow in the spray 

Where we hold the trout at play. 



54 Hylethen. 



Rumbling chasm, ringing fall, 
Shadowy marge, and bowlders white ; 

All in sympathy with all. 
Harmony of dark and bright ; 

Ever changeful monotone. 
Earth's divine unconscious hymn, 

Blending with the lull of noon — 
Filled are the senses to the brim, 

The soul immersed in Nature's own 
As the pale night-born dewdrops fly 
The climbing archer of the sky. 

Is each untimely passion flown ; 
Nor turns the inward eye to see 
That which might, yet may not be. 



Hylcthen. 5 5 

Where, from its midway resting-place 
Freshly bounding to the chase, 
With broader deeper stronger flow 
Sweeps the silvery flood below 
Gray turrets of the black ravine, 
Around moist shores of reedy green. 
That hem the violet-sprinkled glades 
Where sunshine and the vying shades 
Of mingled oak and maple play. 
Winding its intercepted way. 
Laving the worn and riven base 
Of walls with lichen-wrinkled face, 
Which lowly creepers close entwine, 
'Mid tufts of flaming columbine, 
Or welling tremulously out. 
By jealous foliage clasped about. 
Where, up the widening vista, gleams 
The smile of evening's tempered beams, 



56 HylctJicii. 

And lures the current on to gain 
The goal of valley and of plain, 
Far from its limpid mountain source, 
Steering a vague impatient course 
By crimson belt and gilded crest 
Of vapory legions in the west. 

Where the ripples dimly fade. 
Some sudden-springing fish has made, 
As under bank and bushy mound 
The sunset-shadow closes round, 
And damps the glow and bursts the spell. 
That lingered where the last tinge fell 
Across the willow-guarded bed 
Of quiet waters, blindly led 
To find a pathless destiny. 
Merged in river and in sea. 



Hylethen. 57 

Hark ! — where chants beyond the rill 
One weirdly-distant whippoorwill, 
Plaintive harbinger of night — 
Quenched is a day's unsullied light, 
Too rueless, when it dawn again, 
To dawn upon the haunts of men. 

Where the torrent swiftest flows, 
Where dark rocks the stream oppose, 
Where the white foam sails away, 
There we hold the trout at play. 




SONGS OF EROS 



Brj^iOvfxov €p(OTo^ av9o<;. 

Aeschylus. 




SONGS OF EROS. 

'T^AKE the Spring; from out the year, 

Take from Spring her flowers ; 
Let no smiling bud appear, 

Quench the glowing hours : 
Then take Eros, and his praise, 
Eros, Eros from my days ! 



From the red rose take her thorn, 
Where were thorn unfitter ? — 

Let no blossom sweet be born 
With a tinge of bitter : 

Then take Eros, and his smart, 

Eros, Eros from my heart ! 



62 So/i^s. 

Turn the home-bound carrier-clove, 
Like an arrow speeding : 

Will she stay her flight of love, 
Frost or tempest heeding ? — 

Eros hies where he is bent, 

May, or may he ne'er repent ! 



Child of the skies. 
Maid, — as thou art ; 
Star of mine eyes. 
Heaven of my heart 

Draw thou but near, 
All, all is light ! 
But disappear, 
Lo, it is night ! 



So7igs: 63 

Day binds a gem 
Over Night's brow 
(My diadem, 
Beauty, art thou) ; 

And, when he hides 
Love's sign away, 
Twilight abides. 
Saved of its ray. 

So come thy smile 
Oft, as my dawn ; 
Light me the while 
Thoughts of thee gone ! 

Star of mine eyes, 
Heaven of my heart : 
Fair as the skies, 
Maiden, thou art. 



64 Sojigs. 



Were there in the whole firmament a star, 
Outshone its fellows' dimmer, feebler light, 

That none should earlier usher from afar 

The first pale glimmer from the eye of night ; 

Were there a wave, of all that heave and sink 
Restless and ceaseless on the ocean-plain, 

Foremost to clamber up the craggy brink, 
Dashed in ten thousand drops of briny rain ; 

A zephyr were there, of the jocund sprites 
That flee and follow through the paths of air, 

Fleetest and maddest in its giddy flights 
From barren peak anon to valley fair : 



S07lgS. 65 



That zephyr were my love, O love, for thee ! 

Thou the fair goal my light breath should 
pursue ! 
Not all the winds of heaven might vie with me. 

To catch thy trace, to follow, and to woo ! 

I were that wave, and thou the wished-for shore, 
Whither in toilsome, passionate unrest 

This heart should struggle, till its throbbings 
bore 
A tearful, joyful wanderer to thy breast ! 

And fain would I, beloved, be that star ; 

Even unto thee as Hesperus to Night : 
First by thy gray eye welcomed from afar, 

And latest lingering in its winsome liiiht. 



66 ' Sojigs 



Have, then, fate and time, fulfilling their un- 
changeable decree, 

Brought the dreaded hour that calls me, thus to 
part, dear girl, from thee ? 

Life, before our pathways blended, was a journey 
touched with gloom : 

Now, when thine I share no longer, mine is darker 
than the tomb. 

" Friend, if on thy path my presence shed indeed 
a cheering ray. 

Then esteem as gain the brighter, kindlier mo- 
ments of the way : 

Does the traveller, turning quickened from the 
fount whose wavelets pour 

Crystal coolness by the wayside, leave it sadder 
than before ? " 



Songs. Gy 

Ay, — when fates relentless bid him turn despair- 
ingly his gaze 

From the only green oasis in the desert of his 
days ! 

Was there aught of hope to mingle with the tears 
that dimmed the eyes 

Of our common parents, sadly wandering down 
from Paradise ? 

"Gentle Hope has. set an angel in the gateway of 

despair, 
With uplifted finger warning all whose steps would 

enter there : 
' Fly,' he said (myself have heard him) ; ' fly, nor 

cross to these demesnes ; 
Fly through cloud and sea and forest ; fly beyond 

the gates of dreams L' " 

Let me pass their portals, widest flung to those 

whose lot is mine ; 
Leading to the weird Lethean realm of phantasy 

divine ! 



68 Sou^s. 

Let my sleep become my waking, and my waking 
be my sleep ; 

And //ijy dream its snowy pinion round my slum- 
bering vigil sweep ! 

" Ay, — and when thou find'st the palace, whence 

thy better genius calls ; 
And hast heard the mystic voices echoing softly 

through its halls : 
Send, O send (some heart may crave it), to the 

question send reply. 

Whether dying be not living, and to live be not 

to die !" • 

(DueL) 

If of life in death such portion dwells as dwells of 

death in life. 
Then are such as we immortal : mortal only prove 

the strife 
'Twixt what might be and what must be ; must 

but once the funeral-knell 
Sigh, as sigh the broken-hearted — O farewell, 

sweet love, farcv/ell ! 



Songs. 69 



His step is gone, his voice is still, his eye seeks 

mine no more ; 
And yet I seem to see and hear and read them, as 

before : 
An echo and a shadow now, where glowed and 

sparkled then 
A soul whose beams will never warm this frozen 

heart again. 

Thou happy streamlet, rippling by, where now I 

stand alone : 
I saw thee with an icy pall across thy bosom 

thrown : 
No hope was there of milder skies, no dream of 

any Spring ; 
And still I heard the fond refrain of vanished 

Summer ring. 



7° Sojigs. 

What Earth her lovely children lends, some god 

has granted me : 
Bound by cold memory's magic song, my heart, 

O burst not free ; 
Soothe at the sources of the past the pangs of 

present woe ; 

O tears of infinite regret, cease not, cease not to 
flow ] 




Songs. 71 

Columbine, columbine, 
From your fragile stem depending, 
Lightly o'er the torrent bending 
With quintuple ruby^-wrought tiara 
And golden tassel fine : 
How you tempt the eye to linger, 

And the venturous foot to climb, 
Tempt the quick-despoiling finger, 
Columbine ! 

Columbine, columbine. 
You shall be spared — for a season ; 
In my heart I know the reason 
Why I deem you, yes, by far too rare a 
Prize for hand of mine : 
Tempt a fond dark eye to linger, 

And a gentler foot to climb. 
Fall before the loveliest finger, 
Columbine ! 



72 Sou^s. 

As that smile, that glance, that fervor, 
As this passion came unsought, 

So I claim, now all is over. 
That thou too forget me not. 

Then, when beams thy bridal morning. 
Beams for him who wins the lot, — 

From that wreath (if this my warning 
Bid thee still forget me not) 

By fair mates, with loving visit. 
To thy trembling fingers brought, 

Save for me, — /le cannot miss it, — 
Save a dear forget-me-not. 

It shall save one blooming hour 

From a withering age of thought — 

O my lost, my broken flower, 
O forget, forget me not ! 



Songs. 73 

Methought I stood by a mountain grand, 
And the sea crept up to its flinty strand. 

I heard no sound in that region lone 
But the waves, and their weary monotone. 

The mountain moved, as it were in sleep, 
And stirred the waters of all the deep, 

And a surge swang mightily to and fro. 
And now rose louder, and now sank low. 



Then floated the ringing tones between 
Of a lyre, swept by a hand unseen. 



Sweet and solemn they seemed to glide 
From caverns dark in the mountain-side ; 

Till the billow ceased to beat at the shore, 
And wearily murmured the waves as before. 

But long in my ear an echo rang 

Of the throe, and the surge, and the lyre's clang. 



74 Songs. 



I LOOKED on a brimming fountain, 
With its waters upwelling for aye, 

They were black in the shadow of even. 
They were bright in the lustre of day. 

Not a flower by its margent mirrored, 

But with fairest petal smiled ; 
Not a bird 'neath the verdure, but warbled 

His fondest carol wild. 

Each wind to his silent hollow 

Had sped, with a murmur low ; 
While the wrinkled hill-tops glimmered 

In the sleepy noonday glow. 

A maiden knelt with a ewer, 

From the limpid source to fill, 
And its depths they were strong to woo her. 

That she gazed with a transport still. 



From the thirsty forest-mazes 

A chase-worn huntsman came, 
But drank not — for the spell beguiled him 

Of a rapture he could not name. 

And they seemed to wait, and to wonder 
If their vision should vanish away, 

As I looked on the brimming fountain, 
With its waters upwelling for aye. 




SYMPOSIUM METRICUM 



ev fivprov kXuBI to ^i(f)0(; (f)op7Jaco. 



v' 




SYMPOSIUM METRICUM. 

T O, the lot and number mark 

Me to be symposiarch ! 
Of this banquet I am lord ; 
Hear me, and obey my word. 

Hear me, ye whose eye-light glows 
Under wreaths of bay and rose ; 
Lips that curl at sound of mine, 
Moistened by the god-sent vine : 



Clearest, sweetest chants the muse 
When the arm of Bacchus wooes. 
With ambrosial fingers pressed 
To a yet diviner breast. 



8o Syniposiiivi. 

Then the trembhng passions start 
From the barriers of the heart ; 
Then the thought leaps to the tongue, 
And the hope dies not unsung. 

Genius then flings out a beam 
From his bright, ecstatic dream ; 
He whom fates have burthened low 
Drops one fragment of his woe. 

So be this Euterpe's hour ; 
Own ye, friend to friend, her power : 
Till I last take up the strain, 
And we crown our cups again. 

9 

Stiller, stiller — palm to brow ! 
As I let the myrtle-bough 
Cross from hand to hand along. 
And from voice to voice the sons;. 



Syinposiiim. 



With the bough methought a spark 
Thrilled me, O symposiarch, 
Of the soul that flashes yet 
In the measures thou hast set. 

Well the god deserves of youth, 
If he drives the blade of truth 
Through the sordid chains that bind 
Or the body, or the mind! 

Freedom be to me the breath 
Of the life I owe to death : 
Freedom, won with groan and cheer 
In the tempest of the spear ! 

Freedom's pledge of equal aims. 
Equal hopes, and equal names ; 
Freedom's deep and deathless tone. 
Echoing round each despot's throne. 



82 Symposuim. 

Freedom, mixed with every thought 
Art or phantasy has wrought 
Into shapes, which gave to see 
Signs of greater shapes to be. 

Freedom, marching in the van 
Of the proud advance of man, ' 
All that peace and wisdom yield 
Mirrored in her burnished shield. 

Claims a free hand thus the right, 
Leafy symbol of delight. 
Thee thy tuneful way to send 
At the hilted weapon's end ! 




Symposium. Z'^^ 



Is there aught in gHttering steel, 
Moves an awe-struck heart to feel 
What the heights, the depths, attained 
By the will of man unchained ? 

His all-reaching ken profound 
Air nor sea avails to bound ; 
Cave nor wilderness, to rest 
Trackless of his cunning quest. 

From the wave he lifts the pearl. 
O'er whose hinged casket whirl 
Whelming eddies, through the dim 
Grottoes of the trident-king. 

Wide on billowy paths and far 
Flies for him the sail-winged car, 
Points him many a nameless strand. 
Sunset-realms of wonder-land. 



84 Symposium. 

Earth her buried treasure-room 
Opes to him, and, from the gloom 
Of its niches dank and cold, 
Beams the tempting bfiish of gold. 

In her vaults of marble-vein 
Delves his hand, to rear the fane : — 
Saffron gleams of Eos lave 
Peristyle and architrave ! • 

Now to evil, now to good 
Tends the soul, with fitful mood : 
Here, to dust low-fluttering — there, 
To fair ether soaring fair ! 




Syniposiuvi. 85 



Happy they, whose acts fulfil 
Not some earthly mistress' will : 
Who but Wisdom's bidding hear, 
Her immortal anger fear ! 

Them no longer, passion-racked, 
Fickle-witted whims distract : 
Wisdom's nomes harmonious all 
From her silver plectrum fall. 

Me the piny wreath lures not, 
Over Isthmian courses sought ; 
Not the loud Olympian meed. 
Earned by fiery-footed steed. 

Not the wrestler's firm renown 
Sways my fealty to a crown 
Wrung from pleasure, pride, and pelf 
In the struggle of myself. 



86 Syniposiinn. 

Stand not I to argue it 
Where the gaping many sit : 
Not with smooth, obsequious plea 
Wise to seem, but wise to be ! 

What the vain mob vaunts to know, 
Wisdom proves with question slow ; 
While the quick-tongued rhetor prates, 
Wisdom ponders, wisdom waits. 

While their factions rub and fret. 
While their empires rise and set, 
Wisdom fares her patient way 
With the torch that shines for aye. 




Symposium. 8^ 



Best beyond a holier sphere 
Loves my charmed eye to peer 
Of the flight from age to age : 
Rose the minstrel ere the sage. 



Rose with sounding harp of praise, 
Strung to themes of ancient days, 
Deeds heroic to rehearse, 
Rolled in torrent-mocking verse. 

Rose with lute, and faltering line 
Of a threnody divine, 
When new anguish, welling fast, 
Dimmed his vision of the past. 

Rose with staid, majestic mien 
On the throng-beholden scene. 
There to teach what issues bide 
Blood-besprinkled ways of pride. 



Symposiuin. 

All that drips from calm or care 
Poesy in chalice rare 
Pours, and blends the world of light 
With the mystic world of night. 

Many a tranquil chord has rung 
Through the dirge of Ilium ; 
Many a paean, strong to save, 
Echoed from Cocytus' wave. 

When Death consecrates his own. 
Poesy, with votive stone, 
Still her gentle tribute brings, 
Still the muse of memory sings. 




Symposium. °9 



Comes to me the myrtle ? Now 
Softly be enshrined the bough! 
Now love's hymn let me attune, 
Whom love's emblem brmgs the boon. 

Sweet may ring your gleeful rhyme, 
High the chant of freedom chime. 
But the songs that pierce the graves 
Are the songs of Eros' slaves. 

In their words a crisping flame, 
In their tones a winsome shame, 
In their cadences a sigh 
As of leaves, whose fall is nigh. 

Dire, invincible the works 
Of the potent god who lurks 
By rude fold, or gilded hall, 
On his hapless prey to fall! 



90 Symposium. 

Sudden-vengeful ire who wreaks 
From his lair of virgin cheeks, 
Haunts the curve of comely limbs, 
'Neath the misty eyelid swims. 

Swift, his supplicants to spurn 
Whilst at altar's marge they burn 
Incense of regretful years, 
With a litany of tears. 

Eros' branch has done the round : 
See! — to Eros' statue bound, 
Droops its green — the while we hark 
To thy lay, symposiarch. 



^ 



Symposium. 9^ 

Hellas, Hellas, lo, I bring 
Thee the lay I rise to sing! 
Gods and heroes, lend my voice 
Numbers worthy of the choice ! 

Hellas, first in name of thee 
Brave men swore they would be free : 
First, then, in thy cup be poured 
Crimson glories of the sivord. 

In thy praise resounded high 
Music, born of sea and sky: 
Wreathe I, so, this rim along 
Flozvers of never-dying song. 

Of the nations, Hellas, thine 
Beauty chose, to hold her shrine : 
Here in ruby waves I trace 
Memories of the fairest face. 



92 Symposium. 

Pledge me now the triple-crowned, 
If of love ye know the sound, 
If the trumpet, if the lyre 
Sets the heart of youth on fire ! 

Drink to Hellas, as she stands, 
Hellas, Hellas, land of lands ; 
Drink to art and eloquence. 
All that speaks to mind or sense ; 

Drink to words of law and right. 
Drink to liberty and light. 
Drink to beauty, drink to fame. 
Drink to an immortal name ! 





)NGRESS 




015 762 169 5 



